


Damaged Bodies

by BalefireFlatlands



Series: The Balefire [2]
Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2019-09-14 11:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Jeet finally gets around to learning Blas Cap's name, might as well use him for more than just bullets.





	Damaged Bodies

Another day another battle. They’d come out victorious this time, even bagged themselves one of Stank Gum’s brightly colored cars. The other cars had escaped, but there’d been heavy casualties on the War Boy’s side. Jeet’s Stronghold only had one prisoner, and they didn’t need any more. Prisoners needed to be fed, and in order to be fed they better be providing something worthwhile to the stronghold. And crazed neon War Boys weren’t providing anything. So Jeet’s people had held nothing back, killing any that got close, pulling injured ones out of their cars and finishing them off without pausing.

There’d been a celebration afterwards, people dancing around the car in the middle of the stronghold, getting themselves drunk off ethanol cut with water from the war party’s canteens. Jeet let them have their fun, watching them from the comfort of his chair. The noise gave him a headache, but then again being alive gave him a headache. At least they were in good spirits, which was rare on the outskirts of nowhere, fighting for every resource.

Jeet could probably stand to relax a little himself. Sleep more. Stop constantly worrying about Scrotus and the other warlords and trade agreements and resource allocation and how to keep his people safe. He reached up to press his fingers against the blades in his forehead, eyes flicking around the lighthouse.

Someone else not joining in the festivities was the stronghold’s only prisoner. He was standing on the platform, hand on the railing watching the residents below. They hadn’t kept him chained up, even if he escaped where would he go in the middle of the desert? He stood out starkly in the dim lighting inside the lighthouse, a dusky sulfuric yellow color against the rusty metal of the platform and walls. He caught Jeet staring at him and retreated back to the alcove behind his powder table.

Several of the revelers paired off, heading up to the upper levels where the mattresses were. There was no privacy, no personal space, but no one knew any different so it didn’t seem strange at all. 

Jeet got to his feet, having made a snap decision that he might regret later. Walking over to their haphazard powder cooking station he slammed his palms down on the table, getting the prisoner’s attention. “Wanna jaw with you. Get up.”

He made a short-tempered gesture with his hands, motioning the Bullet Boy to the staircase and following him up it, shoving at his rump when he didn’t move fast enough. All the way up to the rooftop holding the light. Jeet’s private domain. No one else went up there, it wasn’t forbidden, but it was windy and offered a view of nothing but desolation. Jeet let the trapdoor crash down behind him watching as the yellow painted War Boy backed up against the light, clearly concerned that Jeet was going to throw him off the tower.

Instead Jeet approached him quickly, grabbing for his injured arm and tilting it up so he could study it. “This thing hurts does it?”

“Sure does.” He didn’t pull back, but he was not exactly comfortable with Jeet holding his stump of an arm. “Sometimes feels like my hands still there. All pins and needles like it’s lost circulation.”

Jeet dropped his arm, fingers going to his chin and tilting his head so he could look at all those tattoos across his neck, examining his prisoner like he was a piece of meat. Blas Cap wasn’t resisting, but he was tense, not sure what to expect.

“We’re both in buckets of pain, so I’m gonna cut right to the meat of it. Get your pants off Bullet Boy, I feel like having my way with you tonight.”

“… what?” His eyes went wide, pressed back against the wall.

Jeet sighed, War Boys were notoriously stupid, and he couldn’t tell if Blas just didn’t get it, or was stalling. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Blas fumbled with his bullet belt, unhooking it and letting his pants fall. He stepped out of them and stood before the stronghold leader naked, shivering in the cold, bracing wind. He had more tattoos around his calf, and a pretty gnarly scar all down one side of his leg, gritty and raised up, clearly recognizable as road rash. Must have been knocked off a car going at high speeds, maybe when he lost his arm, Jeet wasn’t going to ask. He sure was scrawny though, his hips protruding in sharp points, bones in his legs clearly visible under muscle that had wasted away. He’d been a prisoner of the Thrall Rustlers for a very long time, probably started to atrophy.

Jeet nodded appreciatively though, he liked the roughness, the uniqueness of this ruined body. Reaching out he turned Blas around, pressing him against the wall, and pulling his hips back into the proper angle before his hands dropped to his own pants. He hesitated though, the Bullet Boy had some disturbing scars around his ass, thin crisscrossing scars across the meat of his butt, and a raised, knotted scar that went from his lower back down his crack to disappear between his legs.

“Thrall Rustlers?” Jeet dragged a finger over that scar, looked like it had been very, very painful.

Blas jerked away, twitching, his hand was braced against the wall, fingers digging into the concrete, knuckles white. He nodded and tried to look at Jeet over his shoulder.

Frowning Jeet pulled himself out of his pants finally, stroking himself. He didn’t like that at all, the idea that he was tearing open old wounds. He spit into his hand, slicking himself up. Blas jerked, his breath coming quick and shallow, he knew exactly what was coming and he wasn’t happy about it.

Jeet did him the courtesy of somewhat attempting to prepare him. They didn’t have liquid to waste to use as lube, but he fingered that scar down to Blas’ hole, pushing a finger into the resisting flesh. The Bullet Boy stiffened up tensing as his body tried to push out that intrusion. He hissed when Jeet added another finger, clenching his teeth hard enough to break them.

Pulling his fingers free Jeet held onto his dick, guiding himself into that tightness. Ever twitchy he was able to avoid the elbow that Blas sent towards his head, before the man fell forward again, resting his head against the wall with his arm flat against it, making a whole host of pained noises.

“Relax relax.” He rubbed the Bullet Boy’s spine trying to get him to stop tensing up, it was painful for Jeet too, with him like this. Spitting into his hand again he stroked Blas, refusing to move until the man in front of him was at least somewhat aroused. He was raping him, and he was fine with that, but he didn’t want to actually hurt him. And right now Blas was in serious amounts of pain. He wasn’t screaming but Jeet knew that was just because he was used to being in misery and dealing with it. They both had pain tolerance levels that were off the chart.

“Just .. get it over with.”

He’d hardened under Jeet’s attentions, relaxing just enough to allow Jeet to move without it being agonizing. Jeet licked his hand, coating his fingers in saliva and returning to his stroking. He wasn’t going to move until he could coax a moan out of Blas. Did he moan in that accent? Jeet was determined to find out.

It took a while, but Blas’ breathing returned to something like normal, his hips thrusting a little into Jeet’s hand, even as the man remained buried in him. “Keep like that. I’ll treat you good, Bullet Boy.” He started to move, thrusting shallowly in time to the stroking pressure of his hand. Blas wasn’t anywhere near lost in pleasure, but he wasn’t tense and making those whimpering noises anymore. And that was all Jeet could ask for.

He finished himself off quickly. Jeet didn’t have much stamina in anything including this. He rested his face against the yellowed back of his prisoner for a few moments, getting his own breathing under control. Then he pulled back, pushing himself down into his pants, turning Blas around to face him and pressing him up against the wall, continuing to stroke him. He’d gotten his, he’d make sure his prisoner was satisfied too. Fair’s fair.

Now that Blas wasn’t being stretched painfully he could concentrate on the pleasurable thing that Jeet was doing to him, eyes half lidded as his hips pushed back against Jeet’s hand. It wasn’t great, but it was more than enough to have his head leaning back against the wall, hips snapping forward as he sprayed off into the darkness. Well. He hadn’t expected that.

Jeet actually grinned, he liked this prisoner. Leaning up against the wall next to him he ran his hands over the Bullet Boy’s bony ribs and hips. “Get dressed back up. You’re getting all cold.” He flicked one of Blas’ nipples, smirking as he flinched, then opened the trapdoor again, ready to head back down. Blas struggled to get his pants back on one-handed and Jeet reached over to help him, buttoning them up and reattaching his belt. Felt kind of good to take care of someone other than himself.

They headed back downstairs, Blas walking gingerly, anyone who saw them would know immediately what had gone on. But Jeet didn’t hear any snickers behind his back. Blas immediately went back to his little alcove dropping down onto hard concrete floor.

Jeet left him there, going into one of their store rooms and returning some time later with a bundle under his arm. “Get on up. This is for you.” He felt odd, like he was bribing the prisoner somehow, but he wasn’t comfortable with the guy sleeping this off on the cold floor. As soon as Blas moved Jeet spread out a thin fabric blanket filled with fabric scraps and feathers. It wasn’t much but it would be better than the floor, give him some softness to lay on. The other piece of bunched up fabric he handed to Blas, a horrifically orange and yellow blanket that had seen better days. It had holes and stains all throughout it, but it was thick and would keep him warm on nights like this.

Blas looked shocked, like no one had ever given him anything before in his life. He actually gave Jeet a smile, showing off teeth that were very white for someone in the wasteland, one long sharp canine giving him an endearing lopsided look. He was missing the other one. “Thanks. That’s .. right kind of you.”

Jeet didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say to that. People just didn’t call their rapists ‘kind.’ It was a little uncomfortable. He reached out to stroke down his body one last time before he nodded and turned to return to his padded throne. Sitting with his chin in his hand, leaned against the arm of his chair, he watched as Blas bundled himself up and got comfortable.

He’d make it better for him next time. Maybe get them some privacy in one of the store rooms. They both needed the respite from pain, and Jeet was willing to make sure his prisoner enjoyed himself. Maybe ride him himself one of these times. He could tell Blas didn’t, but Jeet enjoyed that burning pain of fucking without lube. Next time.

Jeet grinned, steepling his fingers as he thought about it. Next time.


End file.
